The Doctor's New Body
by Zer0Fahrenheitx
Summary: The Doctor sits in Yaz's sparse living room, alone with her thoughts. She's had a lot of time to think, but not much time to get used to her new body. One-off smut, for mature audiences.


The Doctor sat on the two-seater navy sofa in silence, her eyes wavering across Yaz's flat in an attempt to keep herself preoccupied. The dull, monotonous clunking of the wall clock was drowning out any rational thoughts she was having – if considering how she could turn a whisk into a polymorphic attrition device could be classed as rational.

Yaz said she would be gone until around 8 o'clock, but eager to spend some time together, the Doctor made sure to arrive 30 minutes early and let herself in. Breaking the lock hadn't been part of the plan, but sometimes needs must. Now, she didn't know what to do with herself.

She let out a hefty sigh as she leaned back into the plush padding of the sofa, her right hand toying with the seam of her capri trousers. The Doctor hadn't had much time to contemplate anything since she'd regenerated – let alone her new body. If anything, the body still felt _alien_ to her, to an extent. She had always been a he previously, and there was a lot to get used to. For one, she was shorter, something that still irritated her to this day. However, her slender physique did have its perks – being able to get through tight gaps and having the agility to get over obstacles quickly had come in useful a handful of times. But still, she hadn't explored every part of herself yet. The most intimate she had ever been was when going to the bathroom – that took a_ lot_ of uncomfortable fumbling to get right.

Now, she was sat in her companion's living room, eyes wavering over the thin cotton t-shirt that was tucked neatly into her high-waist trousers. The thoughts that were running through her mind made her hearts skip emphatically as she tried to look away, but to no avail. If she wanted to get used to her body, she had to start somewhere… and this seemed like the perfect way to do so.

Fiddling clumsily with the mustard yellow braces, she undid the clasps, her trousers loosening from around her waist. Feeling considerably warmer than she was when she first entered the flat, she slipped off the lilac-blue trench coat she was so fond of and folded it neatly over the arm of the sofa before returning to a sitting position. Moving a strand of her jaw-length blonde hair out of her eyes, she focused on the edge of her trousers, over-analyzing the situation before her. Tentatively, she placed her right hand under the waist belt of her trousers and moved the light lacy material of her underwear to the side. The smoothness of her skin brushing against her fingertips was a strange sensation to her, but there was something about it she liked. Closing in on her entrance, she could feel the adrenaline pumping through her as she shifted from being apprehensive to curious and excited. Letting her fingers explore freely between her inner folds, she let out an audible gasp as she found her pleasure point. Encircling the now swollen nub, she slouched even further into the chair, head back, blonde strands of hair sticking to her face from her skin's humidity.

The Doctor bit down on her lip as the arousal hit her like a wave, her fingers slick with wetness while the scratchy lace fabric of her bra rubbed against her now erect nipples. With her other hand, she pulled her breasts free from the confines of the material, letting the bra's wiring cup them gently as she moved her fingers across them, an electric sensation coursing through her body as she teased and tweaked the tips of her nipples.

Eager to continue her journey, the Doctor sought out the dampness of her opening and used it to lubricate her internal exploration, the sensation hot, slippery, tight, and intimate. The heel of her palm rubbed against her pubic bone, the pressure adding a more restrained sense of pleasure as she arched her fingers inside herself. She sped up, her rhythm improving as she felt herself nearing the edge. Air sticking in her throat, the Doctor moaned louder than she expected as she let go, white-hot flashes streaming from the core of her body as the tempo slowly waned in short bursts.

She found herself panting, her neck and brow sticky with sweat from her workout. The sensation was still emanating from within her as her body relaxed underneath itself. Removing her hand from her trousers and readjusting herself, she quickly moved into a casual sitting position as she heard the front door open and briskly shut.

"Doctor? Is that you? I heard noises coming from inside and only you would break a lock like that," a feminine Sheffield voice asked.

Flattening down her hair, the Doctor replied, "Yeah, in the sitting room Yaz!"

Yaz walked in, looking over briefly at the Doctor before taking a second look. "…Are you OK?" Her eyes fell onto the Doctor's attire, her t-shirt wrinkled and scruffy as it uncharacteristically hung out of her trousers.

"Me? Oh, yeah, nothing to worry about here! Bit warm, isn't it? Don't you think it's a bit warm?" the Doctor spluttered, trying to keep up with her own tongue.

Yaz raised an eyebrow and smiled. The Doctor acted weird at the best of times, so this was nothing unusual to her. "Right, OK then."

"Got any biscuits, Yaz? Dying for a biscuit."

The Doctor grinned from ear to ear, happy in the knowledge that Yaz was none the wiser.


End file.
